



From DaWn to Dusii, 



WILLIAM DARIUS FISHER 




William Darius Fisher 



From Dawn to Dusk 



by 



William Darius Fisher 




Canadian, Texas 

McDonald & company 

' "Publishers 



T5 3^'U 



COPTEISHTED 1909 
BT 

W. D. Fisher 



PRICE FIFTY CENTS 



Tji^s'JKY of CONGRESS 

] juN 28 ^y«^ 

;■■; fj'. fi. Wo No, 



Frequent demands have been made upon us 
for a copy of this lecture, and in order to com- 
ply with these requests, and to make it possi- 
ble that it may reach a greater number of 
people, we have decided to publish this little 
volume, and offer it to the public, trusting 
that its influence may be in some degree 
commensurate with the desire on our part to 
carry the cheer, to disseminate the truth, to 
gladden the heart, and to inspire to noble 
endeavor all to whom "these presents shall 
come." This lecture is prepared for us by 
Mr. Fisher, and is the same lecture that is 
delivered by him from the platform. 

McDonald & Company, Publishers. 



Though I loved her with all my heart, yet 
feeling that in her life I did not plant as many 
flowers as I should have done, I was not as 
thoughtful as I should have been, — just a 
wayward, erring boy, — causing her many 
heartaches, being the burden of many prayers, 
and realizing that whatever merit there may 
be in this little volume, or in me, is due to her 
and the One in whom she ever trusted, and 
now when it is too late, and the opportunity of 
bringing more sunshine into her life is gone, 
I wish to plant and dedicate this little flower 
to the memory of that one who first sang to me 
the luUabyes in infancy; who in childhood 
taught me, led me, loved me, and who, in my 
youth when just at the threshhold of life, was 
called away, leaving to me that most glorious 
of all inheritances — ^the memory of a beauti- 
ful life — a benediction of love, gentleness and 
Christian fortitude, — my Mother. 

The Author. 




King Sol — The Son 



Vtf^t iHorning 




SUNRISE 

HOSE who visit the famous 
pleasure resort of Colorado 
will hardly feel satisfied to re- 
turn unless they ascend to 
the summit of Pike's Peak 
and view for once the glorious 
sunrise. Photographers have used all the 
skill in their art in attempting to reproduce 
the picture; painters and artists from every 
part of the land have gathered there to catch 
the inspiration it affords; scientists, states- 
men and the world's greatest men have stood 
upon its snow-capped summit and gazed upon 
the magnificent panorama, and acknowledged 
their inability to conceive of language suffi- 
cient to give half justice to a description of the 
scene. 

When you see the first hint of morning, and 
cast a glance towards the west, you imagine 
that a great battle is about to take place, and 
the darkness on one side is gathering its 
forces together behind the mountain as its 
breastworks, and a pitched battle ensues in 
which it is hard to tell which will obtain the 
mastery; but after a few moments of cannon- 
ading, you see the forces of darkness retreat 
behind the peak, and hide themselves from 
the face of their combatant, who comes, 



6 FROM DAWN TO DUSK 

flushed with the radiance of victory, crowned 
with a halo of royalty, and resumes sway of 
its rightful possessions. You see the break of 
morning, the tiny clouds that float out against 
the blue summer skies, which seem to have 
stolen from the rainbow its delicate coloring, 
and you catch the first glimpse of the sun's 
soft beams that are reflected from the snow 
crystals like so many diamonds, and the 
world around you is a mass of beautiful color- 
ing, at which you can only stop and view 
with wonder and admiration the magnificent 
picture. 

In all ages of the world, the sun has been a 
mystery to mankind. When the Creator 
made the firmament and placed therein the 
greater light to rule by day and the lesser light 
to rule by night, and declared that the even- 
ing and the morning was one day, he builded 
wiser than weak human thought has ever 
been able to conceive. When Joshua, 
Israel's leader, called upon the sun to stand 
still in the heavens until he smote the enemy 
of God's chosen people, it is said that it obeyed 
his voice. At that great crisis in the world's 
history when the Saviour of mankind was 
crucified, we are told that the sun hid its face 
and darkness was over the land, and its light 
was withdrawn from the awful picture. In 
all ages of the world, in pagan lands, there 
have ever been those who have deified the sun 
and worshipped it as their god. 

Life has been compared to a day. The 
three periods of life have been designated as 
Morning, Noon and Evening. Morning, the 
period of childhood and youth; Noon, the 
period of mature manhood; Evening, that of 
old age. We cannot say that one is more 
important than the other; each is so full of its 
opportunities and responsibilities. 




Morning Glories 




THE MORNING 



MEMORIES OF CHILDHOOD 

The Morning of Life. What a world of 
memories; what trains of thought it brings to 
our minds. It may carry us back to the land 
of Sunny Tennessee, In Old Kentucky, 'Mid 
the Green Fields of Virginia, or 'Way Down 
Upon the Suwanee River, but no matter where, 
the visions are the same. The hills we used to 
climb, the meadows where the cattle grazed, 
the branches we used to wade, the creeks 
where we used to fish, 

"The orchard, the meadow, the deep tangled wild wood, 
And every fond spot that our infancy knew. 

The old oaken bucket, the moss-covered bucket, 
The iron-bound bucket, which hung in the well." 

What would you give for a draught from 
that old oaken bucket ? or from the old spring 
on the hillside, where the cool, sparkling water 
came out through the crevices in the rocks, 
amid the ferns and flowers, and ran on, mean- 
dering down the hillside, through the skirt of 
woods, and the meadow to the creek; you 
knew every turn it made; here is where you 
made your little wheels and put them in the 
stream and had them turn by the falls ; many 
times during the hot summer days have you 
sat upon its bank, and with your brown legs 
bare to the knees, have you dangled them in 
the clear, running brook, and watched the 
pink toes wiggle in the water. You can 
almost scent the perfume of the sweet shrub 
and the haw bush as it comes wafted to you 
from the memories of long ago. You can 
hear the song of the mock bird and meadow 
lark as they tuned their notes in unison with 
your childish laughter, with the voice of the 
babbling brook and the chimes of the merry 
springtime. 

Did you ever go to mill, with your sack of 
corn across old Beck, half on one side and half 



8 FROM DAWN TO DUSK 

on the other, and you sitting upon the sack? 
You remember when the old thing got out of 
balance, and there was too much corn on one 
side and it fell off, and you had to wait until 
some one came along and put your sack on 
again for you. 

AUNT FEROBY'S JACK-'O-LANTERN 

Did you ever go out into the back yard 
down to the Negro cabin, and hear the old- 
time darkies talk of their childhood, and tell 
tales and ghost stories? I know you have 
heard them tell about Jack-'o-Lanterns; but 
you ought to have heard Aunt Feroby tell 
about the one that got her one night. Here 
they are seated around the fire in the old time 
fireplace; Aunt Feroby is on one side and 
Uncle Joe, who is smoking his cob pipe, sitting 
on the other, and the little pickaninnies are 
sitting and lying promiscuously on the floor. 
She says: 

"One dark night, I had to go ober to Mr. 
Jones's across the big creek, and just when I 
got down dere by dat little thicket, dere where 
Uncle Sebe killed dat rabbit, I seed somethin' 
comin' towards me, and I didn't know what 
it was, and I stopped; and den I says I ain't a 
gwiner git scared at anything like dat, and so 
I started on a little further, and the thing 
started on towards me; and I got scared and 
thought I would turn around and go back 
home, and I found my feet was tied and I 
couldn't move ; and den this thing come on up 
to me, and cotch hold o' me and he says: 
'Whar's you gwine?' And I says, 'I is jest 
gwying ober to Mr. Jones's to tell him to come 
ober and help us kill hogs tomorrow;' and den 
he says, 'Come go wid me;' and I says, 'I 
ain't got no time to be foolin' long here wid 
you; I got to go home and tend to dem 
chillern.' And den de old thing cotch hold 




Morning Daisies 



I 



THE MORNING 9 

o' my arm, and started on down towards the 
big creek, and den my feet come ontied, and 
I looked up at him and seed it was one o' dese 
here old jackomylanterns; his old head was 
kinder like a light, and his ole eyes was jest 
as big, and black and shiney." 

"Git up from dar, Ephraim, and shet dat 
door," said Uncle Joe. 

"And den it carried me on down fru de 

bottoms down dar to de creek, and I says: 

'Look here. Mister, you not gwiner carry me 

down dere into dat water, is you?' De old 

thing didn't say nothin' but jest kep gwine 

right on down into de water. I pulled back 

but it didn't do no good. The water kep 

gettin' deeper and deeper; (uh, but dat water 

was cold) atter while it got right up around my 

neck and I thought I was gwiner drown sho' 

and I got scared I commenced to hollow, and 

den he ducked me down under de water, 

and den he fotched me up again; and den I 

thought de old jackomylantern was gwiner 

kill me whether or no; but den he fotch me 

on up out o' de water, and went on down fru 

de bottoms, and I heard a great big owl 

settin' right up on de limb ober my head 

halloo out: 'Oo, Oo, Oo, a.' " 

"Ephum, didn't I tell you to shet dat do'! 
fasten dat dere latch on dere, too, nigger," 
said Uncle Joe. 

"And den it carried me on down f rough de 
woods, and on ober dere to de white-folks 
grave yard, and dat big new ground dere 
where dey planted corn last year, dat wasn't 
cleared up den, and he took me dere to dat 
grave yard, and put me in dat little house dere 
where dat old man is in his cofi&n ; and den he 
went off somewhar, I dunno where he went, 
and he had me locked up dar wid dat dead 
man. And den I looked out and I seed a 
whole lot o' people comin' up on de out-side, 
and dey all had white sheets wrapped all 



10 FROM DAWN TO DUSK 

'round 'em, and some of them didn't have no 
hands on, and some didn't have no heads on 
but dey was jest walkin' around dere; and 
den I looked out dere, and I seed dat man dat 
was killed ober on the Easom place, I seed him 
jest as plain as I see you dere now; and den 
terrectkly dere come a man up dere and he 
had his head cut right off at his neck, and he 
was totin' it along in his hands, and he come 
in dat room dar where I was, and ah, man 
sir, I got so skeered, I got so skeered, I jes 
fell in de floor, and didn't know nothin' till 
about day de next mornin' and den somebody 
had done come dere and had opened de do' 
and let me out, and den I went on home." 

MOTHER'S GOODNIGHT 

Then it was that you heard mother's voice 
calling you, and you ran into the house, 
fearing that all the while Aunt Feroby's 
jack-o'-lantern would get you, but when you 
got with mother then you felt safe. After 
saying your prayers, and while mother was 
putting you to bed, you looked up at her 
innocently, and said: "Mother, will jack-o'- 
lanterns kill people?" and mother said, "No," 
wondering what prompted your question. 
Then after tucking the covers lovingly, as 
only mother can, she bends down over your 
pillow, and with eyes expressive of all ten- 
derness and love, kisses you fondly goodnight. 
Ah, little one, as your head rests upon that 
downy pillow, and receives the loving caresses, 
you cannot realize the tenderness of those 
hands, the sweetness of that kiss, the depth 
of that love; but in after years when you 
grow older, when you know more of life's 
cares and disappointments, you understand 
her better. It may be that it is when her 
form lives only in memory, but the time will 
come when you love to live over again these 
fond goodnights, these loving benedictions. 




Q 
O 
O 
K 
O 

S 
O 



THE MORNING 11 



UNCLE JACK'S SERMON 

You remember the time when mother went 
to town one evening and left you down at 
Aunt CalHne's house, and the big Negro camp 
meeting was going on, and she took you over 
there with her. Uncle Jack was up preach- 
ing; he took his text and said: "I'm gwiner 
preach to you tonight 'bout old man Prodigal 
and his son, Jim Prodigal. He was de boy 
you know what got tired o'stayin' at home 
and went ober into a fer country, and de ole 
man didn't know whar de kid had gone; he 
went ober dar you know and got him a job 
fum an ole feller a feedin' hogs. Now de 
Scripture don't say nothin' bout what kinder 
wages de boy got, he might a been a workin' 
fer his vittals and clothes, but dere is one 
thing sho' he didn't git much to eat, fer he 
got to eatin' up de hog feed dat de ole man 
had fer de hogs. Jim got to thinkin' 'bout 
dem big punkin pies dat his modder used to 
make, and dem big flap jacks and de sorghum 
molasses, and dem big water melons dat de 
ole man would have ober dere in de patch 
about dis time o' de year, and he says, 'I'm 
gwine back home'. And so he started, and 
when ole man Prodigal seed him coming 
down de big road, he knowed it was Jim. 
What did he do ? Did he go out and git him a 
hickory and say 'I'm gwiner beat dat boy,' 
like some o' you ole fellers would a done ? No, 
he went out dere and met de boy way down 
de big road, he seed dat his clothes wus all 
torn, and his shoes had run down at de heels 
and he got sorry fer de boy, and he fotch him 
in de house and dey rustled around and got 
some clothes fer him, and dey put some shoes 
on his feet and dey went out and killed ole 
Spot's big fat calf, and dey jest had a big 
hullabaloo, yes, dey jest had a big time. And 
what do you reckon, ole man Prodigal's other 



12 FROM DAWN TO DUSK 

son, he kinder got hot and got mad at de ole 
man ; what for ? cause he never had given him 
a big dinner. Now what wus de matter 
wid him? Didn't he git as much to eat as any- 
body? Course he did. What did de ole man 
do wid him? Did he go in dar and rech up 
behind de do', and take down dat strap and 
take him out dere in de back yard and fix him 
Hke you'd a done. No, he didn't do dat. He 
went out dere and showed him all dem cattle 
dat he had out dere on de hills, and said, 
'Boy, didn't you know dat dey wus ally ourn.' 

"Now don't you know dat de whole Prodigal 
family wus Niggers; course dey wus Niggers. 
Don't you know if dat had a been a white 
boy dere would a been no danger of him a 
starvin' to death ober dere where all dem 
hogs wus, as long as dey had good hams on 'em. 
Dat ole Nigger wus all de time a lookin' fer 
chicken roosts, and you know dere wusn't no 
chickens ober dere where all dem hogs wus. 
So you know dese folks wus Niggers. 

"Now Brederen, I wants to tell you, dat we 
has all been out a feedin' de devil's hogs; all 
you bin a gittin' was your board and clothes 
and you didn't git dat; don't you want to go 
back home; you know you bin a doin' wrong, 
and when you go ober dere, Ole Master ought to 
give you a beatin' fer de way you been a livin', 
but he not gwiner do it. He gwiner take off 
de ole clothes and put on de new ones, he gwiner 
put shoes on your feet, he gwiner put rings 
on your fingers, er. What are you stayin' 
ober here a starvin' to death, when way ober 
yonder dere is so much good to eat, er. Oh, 
Brederen, er, don't you know, er, and to 
speak er figuratively, er, we have ober dere 
great big fields o' water melons, we hain't got 
no little patches, er, de whole country is alive 
wid 'simmon trees and de possums grow so fat 
you don't have to climb de trees to catch 'em 
er, ain't you done tired a livin' on de husks 



THE MORNING IS 

dat is fer de hogs, er; don't you want to go 
back home; sholy you don't want to stay 
ober here a workin' fer de devil any longer; 
de ole Ark is ready to carry you ober; you 
don't have to walk back like ole Jim Prodigal, 
but de old Ark will carry you ober; dere is 
room for you and more too . I want you to sing a 
song and come up here and git on board. 
Git on board Children, git on board." And 
they started up the old song: "The Old 
Ark's a Movin', Move Along Children," and 
the hallelujahs of the old darkies lasted until 
way in the night. 

The boys who have been reared in the South 
may forget some of their relatives close to 
them by ties of blood, but there are some of 
their old dark-skinned Uncles and Aunts 
whose memory will ever remain fresh in 
their minds, whom but to recall brings upon 
them a hallowed benediction. 



AUNT LILA'S PRAYER 

Now it is with no thought of appearing 
sacrilegious that we have presented the ser- 
mon of old Uncle Jack, because we are far 
from such intention. The old time Negro 
in his worship was simple, but truly sincere. 
During the war of 1861, when the call was 
made for enlistment of service in the Con- 
federate army, a man residing in the South 
was forced to leave his sick wife and two 
little children, in order that he might fight 
for his country, and he went to his old and 
only servant. Aunt Lila, and after telling her 
that he must leave them in obedience to the 
call, told her he wanted her to take care of 
and look after his family while he was gone ; 
that she had been faithful all the years, and 
that she was the only one he had to look to to 
take care of them. He went his way respon- 
sive to the demands of the law, but old Aunt 



14 FROM DAWN TO DUSK 

Lila, in her devotion and faithfulness, felt 
the weight of responsibility upon her, and 
after the day's work was over, and the little 
ones had been lovingly rocked to sleep in the 
old wooden rocker, and put to bed, and the 
wants of the invalid mother attended to, she 
sought the quietude of her humble cabin, and 
kneeled at her bedside and prayed: "O, 
Lord, I'se nothin' but a poor ole Nigger; 
Massa has done gone and left us, and poor 
Missus is sick, and her and de little chillern 
ain't got no body to look atter them but you 
and me. Lord, I'se gwiner do my part; you 
knows dat I love you, and I knows dat you 
loves me, and I knows if we does what's right, 
you gwiner do your part. So help us Lord to 
do de right." 

Historians of the South may in after years 
forget to record many prominent events in 
her history, they may forget the famous 
battle grounds where the blood of her heroes 
was spilt, but they will never forget the love 
and loyalty of the old darkey who protected 
their loved ones at home when they were in 
the war. 

BOYS AND MULES 

Someone has said that the greatest insti- 
tution on earth is a boy. Probably that is 
true; if there is any greater one, then it must 
be a girl. Just a common every day sort 
of a boy; that is the kind. Their faces may 
be one continuous round of freckle; their 
noses may turn up at the end, or lie fiat on 
their faces, but they are alright. They may 
be red-headed, cross-eyed, ugly as any little 
monkey you ever saw, but they will do ; these 
things will all come out in the wash. What 
buds of promise these boys are, what latent 
forces are wrapped up in their natures; little 
storage batteries of energy, which if directed 



THE MORNING 15 

in proper channels, will develop and bless the 
world. 

Once the Negroes had a debating society- 
down in Texas, and this is one of the subjects 
they discussed: "Which is de most benefit, 
a boy or a mule." Old Josh Williams was up 
discussing the question and said: 

"I am on de firmative side of dis question, 
dat is dat de boy is de mos' benefit; now 
which is de mos' benefit, him or de mule? 
Why ob course de boy is, but when we git to 
studyin' about dis question, dere's a whole 
lot of dissimularity atween de boy and de 
mule, and it's a putty hard question to handle. 
Dere is one thing we got to study 'bout and 
dat is dis: whut kind of a boy is you talkin' 
about? Is yer talkin' about a white boy, or a 
nigger boy; and den again, is yer talkin' 
about a mule dat belongs to a white man, or a 
mule dat belongs to a nigger ? Dere is all de 
difference in de world in bofe of dem. 

"Now in de first place let us discuss de pints 
of dissimularity. Which is de biggest? If 
I was to ax you dat question, honerable 
judges, you would just about say dat de mule 
wus de biggest, but you'd be wrong in dat 
conclusion; folks can't go by 'pearances all 
de time, and specially when dey talkin' 'bout 
boys and mules. Why I wus ober at de 
county seat de oder day and I heard an awful 
smart 'oman a talkin'. I think her name was 
Eddy somebody, and she was talkin' 'bout 
folks and she say it was whut folks thought 
that counted, and not de way things look like; 
she say dat a man didn't git sick. No, he 
don't git sick; ef he's big enough fool to think 
he's sick, den he was sick; and ef he thought 
he was well, den he'd be well again. Now 
I'd like to know who eber seed a boy who 
didn't actually think he was bigger dan a 
mule, and if he thinks so, den dat is jest what 
he is. 



16 FROM DAWN TO DUSK 

"Now let us take up de second pint of dis- 
simularity. De mule is hard-headed, dat's 
one thing sho ; but he ain't got no edge ober de 
boy. You sometimes hear white folks talkin' 
bout dat boys ought not to be whipped, and 
dat you ought not to whup a mule ; you never 
heard any niggers talkin' dat away though; 
but when dey say dat, dey don't know what 
dey talkin' bout; dey say you got to rule 'em 
wid kindness; well dat is one thing dat neider 
one of dem don't know nothin' about, and 
more dan dat, dey don't want to know nufhn' 
about it. If you git along wid eider one of 
'em you got to whup 'em to make 'em mind, 
and you not gwiner git along wid 'em widout 
you do. 

"Now anoder point of dissimularity between 
'em is dis: neider one of 'em is a fool; dey both 
got plenty sense, and you got to be pretty 
sharp or dey'll bofe git ahead o' you every 
time. I got a mule and when he's at work a 
plowin' when de horn blows for dinner he's 
done stop right dar, and dey ain't no gittin' 
'im to de de end of de row; he's gwiner stay 
right dere and until dem harness is taken off 'n 
him, and den he goes to de lot. It's de same 
way wid de boy; dey bofe love to eat, and if 
dere is anything on de place dat looks like 
somethin' to eat, dey bofe gwiner have it. 
Dat ole mule can open any crib door you ever 
seed; dere's no use to go to de trouble a 
f eedin' him ; all you want is to have de feed on 
de place, he'll git it. And if dere is anything 
in de cupboard you may know de boy's 
gwiner have it." 

The judges afterwards retired to consider 
the question and gave in this decision: "We 
de judges of dis question have considered both 
sides, and we don't see how we could git along 
widout de boy or de mule eider. We have 
to have de mule to pull de plow and de boy 
to do de plowin' ; we have de mule to pull de 




A Mid-Morning Sunbeam 



THE MORNING 17 

wagen and de boy to do de drivin'; so what 
you gwiner do widout bofe ov 'em; one ain't 
no count widout de other; you got to git anoth- 
er question; dis question can't be decided fer 
eider one ov 'em, or again eider one ov 'em." 
While the old darkey may have been cor- 
rect in some of his conclusions in regard to 
boys and mules and their points of similarity, 
he)]seemed to dwell upon the bad qualities, but 
in doing that probably he was only carrying 
out a characteristic of the human family, if 
we are not careful to guard against it, of 
seeing the bad qualities and overlooking the 
good ones, 

APPLES OF GOLD 

Glorious period of childhoood and youth; 
how beautiful in its retrospection; how great 
the possibilities; what visions of hope lie out 
upon life's pathway. It is like looking through 
a kaliedoscope; you see beautiful forms, 
clothed in various colors; with another turn 
of the glass, the forms change, but the colors 
seem more variegated and brighter than 
before. So does the youth look at life. 
There in nothing upon the vast horizon to 
mar the picture. If perchance a cloud ap- 
pears, the brightness of the morning sun 
penetrates it, and the result is as the old 
saying, "Apples of gold in pictures of silver." 

Childhood and youth! fain would we linger 
in thy threshhold, but Father Time, the 
Grim Reaper, hurries us on, willing or un- 
willing, down the pathway of life. Often 
have I thought that if we, like Joshua of old, 
could call upon the sun of life while yet in its 
morning splendor, to stay its course for an 
unlimited season, how grand and beautiful it 
would be. Or if indeed, we could discover that 
fabled fountain of youth, what blessings it 
would give to humanity! But are we sure 



18 FROM DAWN TO DUSK 

of that? Probably and no doubt, it is best as 
it is. If we are to judge by the experience 
the past has given us, then we might think 
that if that fountain of youth should be dis- 
covered, some fellow would get in his graft, 
and get the controlling stock, and it would be 
only a few of the wealthy aristocrats who 
would be able to take a bath, and the common 
people like we are would be left out entirely. 

THE OLD NEGRO'S PHILOSOPHY 

I don't know but what there is a good deal 
of truth in the old negro's philosophy. He 
said: "I dunno what dis here world's a 
comin' to. Dey jest keep me skeered to 
death all de time. I'm afeard dis ole world's 
gwiner blow up jes' any time. Didn't you 
hear bout dat big volcano dey had ober dar 
somewhar not long ago; yes, it jes blowed up 
and kill a whole lot o' people. You know 
God A'mighty made dis earf , and He made it 
kinder round, and it turns on it's axle; well 
dis axle you know runs down through de 
middle of de earf, and He put de oil down in 
around dis axle to keep it greased wid, so it 
would run alright. And now ole man Rock- 
afeller, and dem oder big fellers dey been 
borin' way down in dar, and takin out dat 
oil dat de Lord put down in dere, to keep de 
axle greased wid, and now de ole world's out 
o' grease, and we got a hot box, and I don't 
petend to say what gwiner be de consequences. 
It's done got hot down in dere, and dere's no 
tellin' whut gwiner happen. I knows some- 
thin' bout dese here hot boxes, and I tells you 
dey are kinder dangerous. I used to haul 
logs to de mill wid three yoke o' steers, and 
one morning I f ergot to grease my wagon, and 
atter we got to de mill and onloaded, de old 
steers took a notion dey wanted to go home, 
and dey started, and I hollered at old Tom 



THE MORNING 19 

and Buck dat was in de lead to wo' but dey 
wouldn't wo', and jest kep a travellin', and 
I took atter them, but de faster I run, de 
faster dey did too, and den pretty soon dey 
got a hot box, and dat old wagen got on fire, 
and den, ah man sir, dem old steers got 
skeered sho' nuff, and dey run so fast I 
couldn't keep in sight ov 'em but when I did 
catch up wid old Tom, all dere was left of dat 
wagon was de axle, de rest had done burned 
up; now, I tell you, if de white folks don't 
put a stop to dis business, I'm af eared dat 
Ole Moster sometimes gwiner find out he 
ain't got nuthin' left of dis ole earf, but de 
axle." 




The Noontide 




tE:i)e iloonttk 



THE BATTLE 

I HE noontide of life is the 
period of labor; it's the time 
I when we must awaken from 
the dreams of youth, and step 
put upon the open, ready for 
I the warfare, to fight the bat- 
tles of life. Here is where we meet its reali- 
ties face to face; it is important that we be 
well drilled soldiers. Many are those, who, 
when they have confronted the enemy, when 
they have heard the clang of armor, when they 
have heard the roar of shot and shell, have 
given up in despair, and gone down in hope- 
less defeat. But the soldier must be courag- 
eous, must be strong. Then we see the 
importance of instilling into the youth the 
vim, the fire, the enthusiasm, the strength 
sufficient for the warfare. Tell him in accents 
unmistakable of the glory that awaits the 
man who is true; tell him of the laurels that 
crown the victor; hold up to his vision the 
high ideals of life, and imbue his very being 
with the inspiration that will lead him on to a 
pure, high and noble life. 

HIGH IDEALS 

Say what you will, one's life, to a great 
extent, is the realization of his own ideals. 



22 FROM DAWN TO DUSK 

We cannot estimate the influence that our 
ideals have in shaping our lives. As sure as 
the stream that comes from yonder hillside, 
and flows on down, and never reaches a point 
higher than its source, so sure will the young 
man whose mind is not engrossed with worthy 
aims of life, never attain any marked degree 
of success. He may have wandered in the 
mystic land of dreams, and in the hour of 
fond anticipation have builded some magnifi- 
cent castles upon the mountain peaks as a 
dwelling place for the future. Hope may 
have hung therein her golden censors ready 
for his coming, and though the architect of 
these aerial structures may never dwell in 
his coveted possessions, yet the light, resplen- 
dent in its beauty, ever burning upon its 
altars, will lead him to heights perhaps none 
the less lofty, to honors none the less re- 
nowned. 

Look to it, that your ideals are high. The 
boy will see a fellow sitting reared back, 
chewing tobacco, spittin' red, and he will 
imagine he is grinding out philosophy by the 
chunk; he will see a man smoking a cigar, and 
will watch the smoke curHng above his head 
in beautiful ringlets, and the idea forms in his 
mind, that's a man after his own heart; he 
will see a cowboy with big spurs on his feet, 
about three fingers under his belt, riding a 
pitching broncho, and he imagines a plumed 
knight returning from the field of chivalry; 
his ideal on the school ground is the boy who 
can lick all the others; that good-looking boy, 
the young gentleman of leisure, who stands 
on the street corners, and is so adept at 
twirling the cigarettes, is the hero of his 
dreams. 

Ah, implant within him the seeds of higher 
ideals. Tell him rather of the boy Moses, 
who when he came to manhood turned aside 
from a life of ease and pleasure, as a prince in 



THE NOONTIDE 23 

the courts of royalty, to serve and bear the 
afflictions of his oppressed people; tell him of 
the old Roman, of whom it was said: "Sooner 
had the sun change his course than he turn 
from the path of honor." Tell him of Gar- 
field who said in his youth, that the first thing 
he would try to be was a man, and after at- 
taining that exalted position was made a 
president of the United States ; tell him of the 
men made famous in song and story for their 
noble deeds and acts of heroism, and who 
have blessed the world with their labors. 



WEATHER PROPHETS 

There are weather prophets all along the 
way; you will find them on every hand. If 
you are going somewhere, and want the day 
to be clear and bright, they will tell you the 
elements portend a storm, or that there is 
sure to be rain; if the dust is blowing and the 
crops are needing rain, they will tell you there 
is going to be a long dry spell, and there is 
always an atmosphere of darkness and of im- 
pending disasters that surround their vision. 
Many bright hopes have been shattered, 
many lives have been bhghted, many hearts 
have been saddened by these weather pro- 
phets who told their tales of woe, who sang 
their songs of death and disappointment to 
the hopes of young men. How much better 
it would have been to have given them en- 
couragement, to have given them a smile 
rather than a frown. 

It is said of the travellers in crossing the 
Alps, that their journey is over a succession of 
peaks, and that as they, weary and footsore, 
by clinging to the rocks and bushes along the 
way, reach the top of each peak, sit down to 
rest, and look back upon the comrades 
below, and shout to each other a note of glad- 
ness, which lends encouragement to the ones 



2Ji. FROM DAWN TO DUSK 

below. Ah, if in the journey through life, 
as you climb its mountain steep, and look 
back over the dangers and difficulties encoun- 
tered along the way, you will shout a song of 
gladness and encouragement, you will look 
over the chasms and see only the peaks, how 
much more your life will mean to those who 
travel with you, and how much easier can 
those comrades overcome those difficulties 
which beset their pathway in life. 

A DINNER WITH YOUR COUNTRY 
NEIGHBOR 

We cannot over-estimate the value of an 
education in discussing the qualities that go 
to make a successful life. In this the twen- 
tieth century, when there are so many in- 
stitutions of learning, so many public libraries, 
there is no reason why any young man should 
not obtain at least a good common school 
education. And yet with a public school 
at every cross road, and with all the light 
of the century, you sometimes find people 
who are grossly ignorant. Did you ever live 
way out in the country ? You remember that 
old fellow who used to live over there in the 
forks of the creek ; let's go over and take dinner 
with him. There he is sitting on the front 
steps of the old country log house; he has on 
the same slouch hat, the hickory shirt, the 
cottonade paiits and the brogan shoes that 
you used to see him wear. You ride up to the 
gate. 

"Light; well, I hain't seed you since the 
woods wus burnt; not since Bulger was a pup; 
wher did you come from; how's your folks? 

"Tolerable? We are tolerable; some o' the 
chillern's been ailin', but nothin' more'n 
common. I wus jest a tellin' Nancy as how 
you hadn't been over here for a good bit. 
Whar'd you git that horse; is he swappin' 
stock? Now I've got a horse that'll out travel 



THE NOONTIDE 25 

him two to one; he's only five year old too; 
and there ain't nary blemish on him nother. 
I don't believe that's quite as good a horse as 
fust thought he was; look at his wethers; 
looks like he might be string halted. Thar's 
Nancy callin' us to dinner, let's go in and 
have a snack, 

"Nancy, here's our old neighbor." 

"Hiday, how's your folks; tolerable? We 
are tolerable; dinner is ready, and you might 
as well set up to the table ; we hain't got much 
fitten' to eat, but I guess how it will hope to 
keep a body alive, and we think as long as 
we are livin' we are gettin' along pretty well. 
Have a seat at the fur end of the table. 
Billy you'll have to wait; Ide, you set down 
on that box; Sally, you set over thar on that 
bench with Johnny; git out of here Bulger, 
(kicking him, bow-bow). I never could stand 
to have a dog a scratchin' their fleas when a 
person was trying to eat their vittals. Jest 
rech over thar and hope yourself, if you find 
anythin fittin'. Our folks are powerful poor 
hands to wait on a body ; when they git to the 
table, the only ones they think about is 
theyselves. Old man, pass that fry; it does 
look lak you would pass somethin' to other 
people to eat. If a body would wait on any of 
you to pass 'em anything they would starve to 
death I am sure. Johnny, put down that cat ; 
don't you know you'll git hairs all in the 
vittals; it looks lak I never can learn you 
chillern manners. 

"How's your ma? I never see you but 
what I think of the time you got that whup- 
pin' for mashin' the cat's tail, and makin' 
him squall in church that day. Johnny, 
don't take the last piece of meat in the plate." 
"Well, ma, I ain't had but one piece." 

"That makes no difference; one piece a 
meat is enough for any body, let 'lone a boy 
lak you. 



26 FROM DAWN TO DUSK 

"Say, you never is heard Ide sing thet song 
she learned last summer is you? She got the 
ballet to it last summer when she was up at 
Blue Ridge a visitin' her uncle. What's the 
name of it, Ide?" 

" 'Little Gypsies Warnin'. There's a 

nuther song I heard that I think is mighty 
pretty, but I couldn't git the ballet to it. 
The name of it was "Barney McCoy," and it 
sho is pretty." 

"Say, has Miss Liza got married yit? No, 
well I lowed she'd a been married long a fore 
this; I always thought she was a lakly gal, 
and these youngsters never would a let her 
be an old maid. 

"Whatever become of Mr. Johnsing?" 

"I knowed it; I knowed Nancy would ast 
you about him; I jest been a settin' here 
waitin'; I knowed she'd git around to it 
terreckly; He used to kind o' spark her you 
know. ' ' 

"Now, Zed, I jest want you to shet your 
mouth; you always got to go and tell some- 
thin'." 

Seeing Billy was getting a little restless, 
you push back your chair, and after spending 
an hour or two, and talking horse trade with 
the old man, and after hearing Ide sing, you 
bid them good day. 

There is no reason why there is such a lack 
of education among some people as you will 
find it today; it seems that more could be 
obtained by absorption, if in no other way. 

OBSTACLES 

Edgar Allan Poe in his "Adventures of A. 
Gordon Pym," tells of his hero having been 
shipwrecked, and the passengers finally 
having to draw lots as to which of the sur- 
vivors should furnish their bodies for the 
sustenance of the lives of the others, and 



THE NOONTIDE 27 

when they were almost starved, and hope of 
rescue almost vanished, they saw in the dis- 
tance a vessel coming in their direction, and 
their hearts were once more elated with hope, 
and they with eagerness watched the vessel 
as it came nearer and nearer, and as it came 
nearer them, they saw that the vessel was 
filled with passengers, and a man standing at 
the helm, who seemed to be waving frantically 
at them, and they with hearts filled with joy 
returned the signal of rescue, and as the boat 
came near them, an awful stench filled their 
nostrils, and they saw that every person on 
board the vessel was dead, and the cause of 
the girations of the man at the helm was by a 
large stork eating on the body. So it is in 
life. There are times when the heart fills 
with bright hopes, fond anticipations, that 
cheer and gladden us upon the sea of life, 
but as we near their goal, the bubble bursts, 
the identity is revealed, and that which we 
took to be bread becomes a stone, and that 
which we thought to be a fish becomes a 
serpent. 

But we must not let these things discourage 
us; obstacles will come in our way, but if we 
are persistent in going ahead, we can over- 
come them. 

Man needs some of the hardening influences 
that the world will give him ; he needs to brush 
up against the rough places. One of Will N. 
Harbin's characters says: "Thar never 
was a quicker way to kill courage in a fellow, 
than to fight his fights fer him." 

THE GOAL OF LIFE 

What is the goal of life? Did you ever sit 
upon the street corner of some crowded 
thoroughfare, and watch the people as they 
pass, and study their faces and characters. 
Here you will see life in all its varieties. You 



28 FROM DAWN TO DUSK 

see the millionaire and the pauper ; the minis- 
ter and the thug; the boy and the girl; the 
young and the old; all seem to be in one mad 
rush, and to each one, involuntarily, you 
propound this question : What are you seek- 
ing? What is your goal in life? 

And were they to answer that question, 
every one, necessarily, would give you the 
same answer, and that would be "Happiness." 

Do their faces show them to be happy ? 

You see the man of wealth, the million- 
aire ; there seems to be something continually 
upon his mind; business problems that you 
cannot fathom, and they seem to leave upon 
his face the marks of vexation. 

You see the politician; is he happy? He 
may wear the stereotyped smile, but behind 
that you have a glimpse of the war that wages 
within. Before his vision is one continual 
stream of grafters, office-seekers, opponents, 
and every other agency that seeks to take 
away from him that which he would most 
desire. 

You see the thug, the drunkard, the crimi- 
nal, and ask yourself the question: Are they 
happy? If misery can be written upon the 
human face, if unadulterated woe can be 
depicted in the features of man, this is where 
you find it. 

Who is this you see coming down the street; 
why that is the man who clerks in the gro- 
cery store on the corner. He is going home; 
I wonder why he looks so pleasant; he has 
several bundles; I wonder what it is he has; 
there's a little doll; I see a little red cap, I'm 
sure that is for some little boy; he has some 
candy and other things, and there he goes on 
down the street, happy as can be, wondering 
and thinking of the glad faces that will greet 
him at home. 

Who is this you see coming down the street; 
is she laughing? No, it seems so at first, but 



THE NOONTIDE 29 

it is only her face beaming with joy. Why, 
it's a Httle girl; she has a basket on her arm, 
and some flowers. I wonder where she is 
going. There she goes tripping along down 
the street, happy as the day is long, and each 
one she meets she greets with a ray of sun- 
shine that is reflected in his face. There 
she turns up the alley; she stops at the little 
hut on the corner; that is the old rag-picker's 
hut; she opens the door and goes in; she has 
some delicacies from mother's table for the 
old rag-picker who is sick, and some flowers 
too. Ah, methinks I hear the rustle of angels' 
wings, and I see a gleam of heaven in her 
eyes, as the old woman gives her blessing. 

Think of these things and ask yourself the 
question: What is the goal of life, how is it 
obtained — how is it realized? 

The happiest man is the one who renders 
the greatest service, the one who relieves 
the most burdens, the one who does the most 
for others. These are the ones that are of all 
the most truly happy; the ones that get the 
most there is of life. 

TRUE GREATNESS 

There has been an idea, probably, in all 
ages of the world that great men were only 
among the warriors who distinguished them- 
selves in battle ; that in order to be great one 
must occupy some high position in the halls 
of government; some think that when one 
becomes a congressman in the National 
Legislature, or a member of the Senate, that 
of itself is greatness. The position a man 
occupies is not prima facie evidence of great- 
ness. There are some men who have held the 
highest positions, and yet have had the 
blackest hearts. The biographers of Jesse 
James and his band of outlaws held them up 
as great men, and their history they entitled: 



30 FROM DAWN TO DUSK 

"Heroes of the Plains." Ah, well hath Pope 
said: " 'Tis phrase absurd to call a villian 
great." Greatness is not measured by posi- 
tion, it is not gauged by wealth; it is not de- 
signated by the commendation of the capital-' 
ist, nor by the cry of the populace; greatness 
is measured by the magnanimity of soul; 
by the power of influence for good; by the 
service rendered mankind; by the use of the 
gifts heaven has bestowed upon us, whether 
it be wealth, whether it be knowledge, or 
whatever blessing it may be, by using it to 
bless the world. 

Inherited wealth is not always a blessing to 
its possessor ; oftentimes it is a curse. Michaels 
the author of "Bruver Jim's Baby" says: 
"The fellow who was born with a silver spoon 
in his mouth, always wants to put it into 
every other fellow's puddin'." 

OPPORTUNITY 

One of the greatest mottoes that was ever 
given to the world, was that of the immortal 
Davy Crockett: "Be sure you are right, then 
go ahead." Before taking action, it is so 
necessary that your decision should be the 
result of thought, and that it is right, and 
when once made, plumb the line to its ful- 
fillment. George W. Harris, the murderer, 
who was electrocuted in New York several 
years ago, in his last hours when looking far 
away at the blue skies through the bars and 
the window near his cell, was heard to say in 
tones that came from the depths of despair, 
"Oh, if I had known!" No one, but his un- 
fortunate soul, will ever know the full meaning 
those words were to him. 

The most important question that should 
be upon the mind of the teacher today is, how 
to impress the mind of the young man with 
the importance of life's opportunities. In the 



THE NOONTIDE SI 

full vigor of youth, in the full strength of 
manhood, at the noon-tide hour, how can we 
show them the necessity of taking advantage 
of these opportunities, and turning aside from 
the crooked paths. Oh, for the power to so 
indelibly impress upon the mind of young 
manhood, that picture that comes upon the 
vision of the old man, who at last, when the 
hour glass runs low, and there are only a few 
sands at best to go through, at the end of a 
misspent life, as he sits in the shadow of a bitter 
past, and looks back at the parting of the ways, 
where he took the wrong road, and he sees the 
neglected opportunities, and thinks of what 
might have been. 



AN OLD COUPLET 

A beautiful thought is expressed in that 
old couplet: 

"Our lives are songs, God writes the words, 
And we set them to music at pleasure; 
And the song grows glad, or sweet or sad. 
As we choose to fashion the measure. 

"We must write the music whatever the song, 
Whatever its rhyme or metre, 
And if it is sad, we can make it glad, 
Or if sweet, we can make it sweeter." 

A short time ago, the famous singer, Madam 
Calve, was crossing the Atlantic, and a fierce 
hurricane took their vessel, lashed it in the 
storm, and the passengers were terrified and 
were looking every moment for their vessel to 
be dashed to pieces, and their lives lost upon 
the deep; and when all was in consternation 
and peril, she stood in the vessel and clung 
to one of the piers, and sang in that sweet voice 
and with the pathos that only such an oc- 
casion could afford, some old sweet song, and 
there was a calm that settled down upon the 



32 FROM DAWN TO DUSK 

passengers whom nothing on earth could 
have pacified, save the singer and the song. 
Ah, if, in the voyage through Hfe, in foul 
or in fair weather, either in the calm or in the 
storm, our life is so mellowed in its tones, so 
pleasant in its expression, so kindly in its 
bearing, so gentle in its ministry, that its 
influence goes out like some soft, sweet music 
and allays the perils of the storms that beat 
around us, and soothes the aching hearts, and 
its vibrations awaken finer feelings, purer 
motives, higher ideals, nobler purposes in 
the human heart, then indeed will the con- 
ception of the poet as expressed in the old 
couplet be realized, and life will be a glad 
song. 

A DISSERTATION ON LOVE 

Did you ever hear the darkey's dissertation 
on love. It is something like this: 

"I tell you people is mighty curis; and I 
don't know but what de white folks is more 
curis dan de niggers. But I can tell when dey 
in love; shu, dey can't fool me; I just knows 
a nigger better'n he knows hisself. You see 
a nigger never do tell a gal dat he likes her, 
or dat he's in love wid her. No, what he 
want to do dat for ? And if he was to ax her 
what she gwiner tell him ; how he gwiner know 
but whut she tell him a lie. De only way he 
gwiner know whether she cares anything fer 
him or not, is from what she does fer him; 
dat's it, what she does fer him. You see a 
nigger go to see a gal on a Sunday evening, in 
de summer time, and dey git out dere in de 
yard under de shade of a tree, and dat ole gal 
set way ober dere from him, and look at him 
and talk to him, shu, she don't care nothin' 
fer dat nigger; he jest as well go on off from 
dere; she not giwner care nuthin' fer him. 
But den let her git sorter clost up to him, and 




THE NOONTIDE S3 

not have nothin' to say, and not look at him, 
but once in awhile kinder show him de whites 
of her eyes, kinder dis way, den dat gal 
studyin' whether she don't like dat nigger; 
den again when you see her go into de house, 
and git de cotton c wards and come out dere, 
and she stan' up dere and comb his head wid 
de cotton cwards, den she likes him, and he's 
jest about de only nigger dere is to her, too. 
And den agin when you see 'em out dere, and 
she's lookin' his head, den dey in love; dat's 
what lookin' de head means wi' niggers. 

"But de white folks is jest as curis as dey 
can be. I don't know whether I know much 
about now or not; dey lots different to what 
dey used to be ; dey kinder keep me fooled. It 
used to be dat when de white folks loved one 
another, I could keep up wid 'em but I don't 
know whether I can now or not. It used to 
be dat a white boy never got to kiss his girl 
until atter he got married to her. No, sir, 
she wouldn't think about lettin' him do dat. 
Now it mought a been dat de last time he 
went to see her before dey got married, when 
dey got out dere on de porch and shook hands 
tellin' her good bye, dat he held her hand long 
enough fer it to be called holdin' hands. Den 
agin de times got so dat when de time had 
done been set fer de weddin' and all de 
clothes had been done bought, dat de last 
time he went to see her before dey gwiner git 
married, when de went to tell her good bye, 
dat she give him just one kiss, but dat was 
all; he couldn't git no more, no sir. But shu, 
you can't tell nothin' 'bout 'em now; kissin' 
don't mean nothin' to de white folks now, 
so dey tell me. All dey say now is dat dey 
just got to be a little sweet on one another, 
dats all." 



34 FROM DAWN TO DUSK 



A WORLD WITHOUT A SUN 

"In joyous youth, what soul hath never known 
Thought, feeling, taste, harmonious to its own, 
Who hath not paused while Beauty's pen- 
sive eye, 
Asked from his heart the homage of a sigh. 
Who hath not owned with rapture smitten 

frame, 
The power of grace, the magic of a name." 

And that name may be Mary, the common- 
est of all names, and yet with him 

"The world was sad, this garden but a wild. 
And he the hermit sighed until she smiled." 

And as the poet so beautifully continues the 
story : 

"And say, without our hopes, without our 

fears, 
Without the home that plighted love endears 
Without the smile from partial beauty won, 
Oh, what we:^e man, a world without a sun." 




The Old Man's Soliloquy 



Slje Cbening 




THE OLD MAN'S SOLILOQUY 

IHE Evening of Life. When 
jthe day's work is over, when 
the snows of many winters 
have whitened the brow, when 
I the voice has grown faint, 
[when the step is feeble, when 
the hand is tremulous, and the eyes have 
grown dim, then it is that you have come to 
the evening of life. 

Did you ever hear an old man's soliloquy? 
One who had just about reached the end of 
life, when he was all alone with his own 
thoughts; then you will see and know him as 
he is. It is something like this: 

"I guess I must be getting old; times are so 
different to what they used to be; I can get 
around alright yet; I'm not so feeble as they 
make out; why, no, I can get along alright 
yet. 

"I was as strong as any of them in my 
younger days; yes; I beat them all lifting at 
the log-rolling that day; yes; that big fellow 
thought he could out-do me, but he couldn't 
do it; no, he couldn't do it. Let's see, was 
Mandy there? Yes, how come me to forget. 
Why that's the day we were all playing drop 
the handkerchief, and Mandy wouldn't play, 
and she went out and sat down on the wood- 



36 FROM DAWN TO DUSK 

pile, and I went out there and sat down beside 
her. Old Jim thought he could make her 
play, but she wouldn't do it, but just sat down 
there and talked to me. He thought he could 
cut me out but he couldn't do it, no, he couldn't 
do it. Let's see, that's been over fifty years 
ago; I can just see Mandy sitting on that log; 
that's the time she told me that she loved me. 
Ah, Mandy, I love you better than all the 
world; yes, I do; now you know I don't love 
Mollie; who told you that? You mustn't 
believe them dear; I love only you; now give 
me that kiss you promised me; yes, you did; 
you will not refuse me; ah, that's a sweet little 
girl. That's the same day she gave me this little 
curl; I had to beg hard for it, though, didn't I ? 
But I have it yet; let's see; here it is. The 
day we were married she tried to take it away 
from me, but I wouldn't let her; I put it away 
and have kept it all these years. And that 
little picture; that's just like Mandy when she 
was a girl, and she always looked that way, 
yes; yes; why, she didn't look a day older 
when she died, and that has been pretty nigh 
twenty years ago. 

"Poor me. They have all gone and left me; 
I havn't any one to love me now. Little Joe, 
he's gone too; he always thought so much of 
papa; I know he would love me were he 
living; let's see; he would be a man now; oh, 
yes, way past that; I forget. If only some- 
one were here to love me, I would be better 
satisfied. The children seem to think Grand 
Pa is fogy ; they don't like to talk to me ; and 
it seems they would rather I was away. I 
wonder why no one seems to understand us 
when we are old; they say we are childish, 
why surely if we were, the little children 
would love to be with us when we are old; I 
guess they will not care when I am gone; no, 
I'll not say that; I'll not say that; but it 
won't be long; just a few more sorrows, just 



THE EVENING S7 

a few more tears. I know Mandy will meet 
me; she told me when she left me, to meet her 
there; yes, I will; ah, methinks I can see her 
now waiting for me; yes, there she is; and 
little Joe is with her, and he's beckoning to 
me; yes, I'm coming; and Mother is there; 
why, mother's not old; people don't get old 
over there; Ah, how beautiful; eye hath not 
seen, ear hath not heard, nor hath the heart 
of man conceived — listen ! that sweet music — 
are those angels singing? — What was that 
they said? Well done, who? me? Faithful? 
Ah, mother that star in your crown, does it 
mean me? Blessed be His holy name!" 



THE GOLDEN GATE 

Travelers tell us they have stood in the 
Appian Way, and gazed upon the magnificent 
ruins of that once glorious city of the seven 
hills; they have glided tranquilly, in the en- 
trancing gondola, down the streets of the 
beautiful city of Venice, where vine-clad villas 
remind them of the haunts of fairyland; 
they have stood beside the lakes of Bonnie 
Scotland, made famous in her poetry and 
song, and viewed the landscapes o'er and o'er; 
they have gone to the brink of Niagara, have 
heard the roar of the mighty cataract, have 
been refreshed in its spray, and have seen the 
rain-bow in the mist, but the most beautiful 
scene that nature furnishes to man is a sunset 
on the eastern shore of the Pacific. 

The traveller to the land of the Orient 
crosses over the mountains, through the sandy 
deserts and the fertile valleys into the harbor, 
out through the Golden Gate, the only safe 
harbor on the coast ; all other ways are doubt- 
ful, dangerous and uncertain ; but through the 
Golden Gate the exit from this to the land of 
the Orient is safe and sure. 



FROM DAWN TO DUSK 



A GLORIOUS SUNSET 

Standing upon the clifE above the Golden 
Gate, you see the sun just sinking in the west; 
it seems just ready to drop into the bosom of 
the calm Pacific; the trees cast their shadows 
far out on the hillside; the clouds now silver 
are changing into hues of crimson and gold; 
what a beautiful scene, what a magnificent 
picture. You turn again and the sun is gone, 
but it has left a halo of light throughout all 
nature. Silently the stars come out one by 
one; the voice of the whippoorwill is heard in 
the forest, and all that is left us is the promise 
that another day is coming. 

Such is the closing of a good and noble life. 

"So live that when thy summons comes to join 

The innumerable caravan that moves 

To the pale realms of shade, where each shall 

take 
His chamber in the silent halls of death. 
Thou go not, like the quarry slave at night. 
Scourged to his dungeon, but sustained and 

soothed 
By an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave, 
Like one who wraps the drapery of his couch 
About him and lies down to pleasant dreams." 

The End 



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g LECTURES BY g 

§ WILLIAM DARIUS FISHER § 

a a 

D D 

D o 

a D 

□ G 

g From Dawn to Dusk. g 

g ^^All the World 's a Stage." g 

B The Battle of Life. B 

g The South; Old and New. g 

D D 

D a 

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